Zomblog 05: Snoe's War (8 page)

“I would also suggest that you put some eyes on Warehouse City.” Mary said it like a suggestion, but you could tell that there was very little doubt she expected it to be done immediately.

Finally, the meeting was over. A few more things were tossed around, and there was still a bit of grumbling from a few of the tribal leaders who believed that maybe the best move would be to run for the hills. They were a minority, though. I could see a new sense of urgency now that Mary had shared what happened to her people.

I headed out, intent on following Bob and having my evening meal with him and Felicia. Mary caught me by the elbow and steered me away with a curt nod to Bob. He looked like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it. I was really starting to wonder about Mary. Everybody treated her different…almost like they were afraid of her.

“You don’t do a very good job of hiding your feelings,” she said once we were alone and walking down a path that I would have never seen if she hadn’t led me to it.

“Never really had to,” I answered with a shrug.

“Yes, well when you are dealing with people who make the decisions for groups, there is more to it than just stating your piece. You have to learn how to ask for what you want in such a way that makes them want to give it to you.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what she was talking about.

“And when you deal with men, especially older men, you have to let them think that they are doing something
for
you.” She really stressed the word ‘for’ in her statement like it had a special meaning. Unfortunately, I was just not catching on.

“Like now,” Mary laughed. “You look like somebody just asked you how to fly an airplane. You have to learn how to keep what is on your mind from showing on your face.”

“Is that why Ethan got so touchy?” I asked.

“Considering that you were looking at him like he was a total idiot? Yeah, I would say that might have something to do with his reaction.”

I gave what I was about to say some careful thought. I decided that it wouldn’t hurt.

“So why does everybody act weird around you? Almost like they are afraid of you.”

Mary stopped walking. She looked at me and her eyes sort of clouded over. Not like she was going to cry or anything, but more like she was remembering something and reliving it at the same instant.

“I met your mother.”

Those four words hung in the air for quite a while. I wanted her to say more, but I didn’t want to push. I could see a few things on Mary’s face…and one of them almost looked like shame or embarrassment.

“I was travelling down south for a while with several other girls. A few of us had escaped from some very bad men. We sort of took it on ourselves to make them pay. Only, after them there were others…”

As I listened, I instantly remembered the entry from my mom’s journal. She and Greyfeather had found this group of girls while heading south towards Las Vegas. They had a guy that they were “dealing with” when Meredith found them. I tried to picture this woman involved in that sort of thing and it just didn’t fit. I guess people can change over time. However, if this was common knowledge, no wonder folks gave her so much space.

After she finished speaking, I just stood there quietly. Seriously, I didn’t really have anything to say. She was talking about something from almost twenty years ago for one thing; and for another, it didn’t really have anything to do with me.

***

The next few days went by with very little going on. Scouts from the area reported that two more tribes had been hit and that there was nobody left behind. One of the tribes that got raided by Dominique’s forces apparently ran into some resistance and I guess they decided to hang every single person—including women and children—to send some sort of message.

A huge sign was posted in the center of what used to be the village that read:

Attention!

All tribes are officially notified here with this posting that any further resistance will be met with your execution. Spread the word (we know that you have been watching us) that any tribe within five miles that does not surrender at Warehouse City within one month will be seen as an enemy combatant. You have been warned.

Posted under the authority of President DuBois

by Major James Carson

The word spread quickly through camp and renewed the argument of what should be done. While they were busy fighting and arguing, I had managed to locate a map. I started plotting the camps that were known to have been hit. It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for.

I grabbed my map and walked in to the tent where the latest meeting was taking place. There were a lot more people in favor of banding together and dealing with this threat now that it looked like Dominique was escalating the action.

The most vocal in opposition was Greg and Ginger. I didn’t know what their deal was, but they were really starting to annoy me. After all, how much clearer did things really need to be?

I waited for my chance to speak and stepped up to be recognized. Ethan waved me forward and I climbed up onto the little makeshift stage beside him with my map.

“We need to relocate our meeting or we are all going to be captured or killed.” I probably could have opened with something less dramatic.

I held up the map and explained that Dominique’s forces where spiraling out from Warehouse City. They didn’t seem to actually know where the tribes were located, they were simply discovering them—most likely with a small team of scouts—and acting accordingly. My guess was that tribes were located and scouted, and then this Major Carson would decide on the size of the force needed to go in and do the job.

I was able to show what—at least to me—looked like a very obvious spiral that would eventually reach us. And if my guess was correct, the scouts would discover us very soon…if they hadn’t already.

That seemed to get everybody’s attention. A new round of shouting and arguing began. I was not in the mood to hang around for it. I didn’t understand what there was to discuss. It was clear to me what was happening. I was not going to just sit and wait for those people to storm in here and take us. I had a feeling that, as bad as my first experience with Dominique had been, getting captured would be a death sentence for me.

I went to the little tent that I was sharing with Bob and Felicia. If I had to act alone, then so be it. I was sick of waiting…sick of talking…and sick of hearing people talk. My mother, Mama Lindsay was dead along with my friend Phaedra and so many other people that I knew. If I was going to die, it would be doing something…not
talking
about doing something.

I had all my stuff, not that there was much, loaded into my little knapsack. I had a machete that Bob had given me and a nifty set of throwing knives from Mary. I would have loved to have a crossbow, but nobody was giving theirs up and since these people were all away from their homes, it wasn’t like anybody was carrying spares.

I turned to leave and found myself almost colliding with that creepy guy who I first met during the torture of that one NAA soldier. I hadn’t heard him come in, so I had to wonder how long he had been standing there. The fact that he made no move to step one way or the other when I practically ran into him was a bit annoying. I waited for a moment to see if he would move out from blocking the exit. When he didn’t, I scowled at him and moved to the left. He moved with me.

“Going someplace, Miss Gainey?” he asked in a voice that made think that,
if a snake could talk, this is what it would sound like
.

“It really isn’t any of your business,” I snapped and moved to the right.

He moved with me again, blocking my path. “Actually, it is. You see, I am one of the people responsible for the safety and security of the tribes in this region. It seems that your presence is something that this President DuBois requires. I have been assured that if I can somehow make that happen, that the tribes in this area will be left unharmed.”

“And you think that anything she says is true? You think that if she has me she will just decide that whatever reason she holds for doing what she has been doing will magically go away?” I retorted.

I was doing a couple of things. First, I was stalling. All I needed was anybody to show up and this would be over and done before whatever plan was swirling around in this man’s mind could be enacted. Second, I had a sneaking suspicion about this weasel of a man—whose name I still did not know.

“Absolutely not,” the man made a sound that I had to assume was a laugh. “However, if I deliver you to her, then it will secure a place for me in her hierarchy. The tribes are finished. They have no ability to stand up to the force that the NAA wields. Most of these people are little more than farmers and scavengers. They have managed to survive as long as they have by running and hiding. How would you think even for a minute that they could make a stand against a real army?”

“So you snatch me, turn me over, and then become some sort of pet, able to torture freely without worrying about judgment, without having to pull yourself in before somebody sees that you enjoy what you do?”

I was really hoping that somebody would show up right about now. I could see the look in this man’s eyes, and something told me that he had already been in contact with Dominique…and that she might have already told him who his first victim would be.

“If you scream, I will simply kill you here and now,” the man said. To emphasize his point, he let his hand come out from under his fur cloak to reveal the pistol-sized crossbow. He must have noticed me looking past him while I was hoping for help. “It won’t be nearly as much fun, but the results will be basically the same.”

I wouldn’t have to scream. I saw a shadow moving behind him. What I needed to do was keep my eyes on him and try to keep my face calm. Ever since Mary had pointed it out to me, I had practiced, but I didn’t really know if I was making progress or not; now would be a good time to discover that I was.

The tent flap parted and in stepped Greg Carrick. He looked at me and then shot a curious glance at my would-be captor.

“For crying out loud, Spujt (it sounded like ‘spewt’), are you gonna grab her or not, that stupid meeting won’t go on forever.”

When Greg started to chuckle, I realized that my mouth was open. So much for keeping things off my face.

“You thought that I was somebody who was going to rescue you or keep Spujter (that sounded like ‘spewter’) here from hauling your skinny butt to Dominique,” Greg said.

I would have no chance if I didn’t act right away. The odds were already against me, but if I did nothing, I was a goner.

My mind went through the possibilities. I knew that the moment I reached for a weapon, I would take a bolt, and by the looks of it, there was something coating the tip. It was either poison, or something to knock me out. Either way, that was bad.

I decided that I had one option. I was pretty certain that they had already underestimated me because of my size. I would need to make this count.

Bringing up my knee, I caught Spujt in the groin. He scowled, but the effect was not nearly what I had hoped. When he came back with a backhand across my face, I ended up being the one stunned.

“You screwed up, girlie,” Greg snorted. “Old Spujter hates being reminded of what he lost.”

I didn’t understand what he was saying. Apparently I was doomed to a life of not being able to hide my thoughts or feelings because Greg chuckled.

“Spujt is a eunuch.”

I had no idea what that was, and I would not be having any time to think on it because Spujt the Eunuch fired his crossbow. The bolt caught me in the shoulder and whatever was in the tip worked fast. There was a terrible burning sensation, and then everything went wobbly. I tried to scream because I figured that, if I was going to die, I wanted these jerks to go with me. Unfortunately, the only thing that came out was a pathetic squeak…or at least that is what it sounded like in my ears. The very last thing that I remember is Greg stepping over to me. Looking up at him, he suddenly seemed much bigger. Then, almost like in slow motion, his fist was coming at my face. Slow or fast, there was no way that I could move to avoid it. There was a bright flash….

***

“Snoe?” a familiar voice whispered in my ear.

“Mom?” I managed around cracked lips and the taste of salty copper wire.

I felt something press up against my lips. My thirst was stronger than my aversion to pain. I drank greedily and tried my best to ignore the way my mouth felt like it was being ground up under lava rocks.

I opened my eyes and the light came through the slits and went straight to the pain center of my brain. I might have cried out, but I was certain that I shut my eyes and vowed never to open them again.

“Hang something over that opening,” the female voice snapped.

“Snoe, I need you to try and sit up,” the female voice that I was now certain was not my mother said.

My mother.

And then it came back. My mother was dead. She had been hung after my escape. At the thought of the word ‘escape’ I felt a new sensation start to build. My mind was insisting that I needed to escape, but I could not yet recall from who or what.

I felt a hand slip behind my back and ease me to a sitting position. As soon as I was upright, I promptly threw up all over myself—and judging by the way I suddenly had no hand supporting me behind my back, the person beside me as well.

“Oh, my goodness,” a new voice said. I heard sounds of people gagging just a bit.

Say what you want about the fact that we live in a world where the dead walk and you can see what was once a human being wandering around with its insides hanging out, but be around a person who throws up and it still makes the gorge rise.

Some fuzzy bits of memory started to return, slowly at first. And then it came in a rush. I cried out and forced my eyes open against the pain, uncertain of what I would see, or where I might be.